lovely melodies without anyone's claiming that this particular art was a manifestation of intelligence.
Admittedly, no Sixth Millennium: Oligarchy 147 birds—and probably no Men, either—had yet come up with any music as complex as that produced by the Greenies, but that didn't necessarily prove... On her own initiative, Ulice hired a number of musicians to transpose the oscilloscopic readings of the Greenies’ symphonies into a score that could be played to an audience of humans. More money went to hire an orchestra, and, after a week of rehearsals, the premier performance of the Greenies’ Symphony No. 6, the most sophisticated of their creations, was given to an audience consisting entirely of psychologists and musicians. The symphony was unlike anything ever heard before; fully half the audience walked out before the evening was completed, while most of those who remained gave the orchestra—and, by implication, the composers—a standing ovation. When questioned, opinions were split right down the middle. Rostikol, perhaps the greatest conductor ever seen on Deluros VIII, claimed that it was a work of absolute genius; to his mind there was no doubt that the Greenies were intelligent, quite probably more intelligent than Man. Malor, the uncrowned king of the serious composers, found it interesting but incomprehensible. And Kirkelund, foremost of the critics from the alien culture of Canphor VII, found it a hideous cacophony of sound indicating nothing more than random selection of discordant and atonal thematic material, hardly the type of music on which to base a case for intelligence.
The seven members of the Oligarchy, as well as the Military, were completely noncommittal, awaiting a decision from Psychology. Psychology was leaning toward a statement declaring the Greenies to be a sentient race, but still wasn't ready to make it without further data. Ulice decided that she couldn't wait any longer, and two days later the Department of Alien Affairs publicly proclaimed that the Greenies were intelligent and every effort would now be made to evacuate them from Bareimus III prior to its sun going nova. She had her executive assistants make out the proper requisition forms and sent them to the various branches of the Oligarchy from which she required assistance.
The first to reply was Treasury. It had placed the money in escrow, but was not prepared to relinquish it on the say-so of a woman who possessed virtually no experience or expertise in the field of alien psychology. Next to report was the Military. They were still more than willing to help, but their hands were tied until the Oligarchic Council gave them its written approval. Psychology responded with a scream of rage. What right did Ulice Ston think she had to preempttheir function? The Greenies would officially become an intelligent race if and whenthey said so, and not until then. And the Council simply threw up its collective hands in dismay and turned its attention to other business. The question was still unresolved when Bareimus went nova two years later, becoming the brightest star in the local heavens for almost a month. The Greenie colony on the Science planetoid continued to thrive and turn out more complex and masterful symphonic works. Psychology still refused to make a judgment concerning their intellectual capacity. The Education Department decided not to incorporate the Greenies into their textbooks until a decision was reached, if indeed it ever was. That portion of the Military concerned with the evacuation of planets turned its attention to more pressing problems. And Ulice Ston resigned as the head of the Department of Alien Affairs, married a man who had never set foot on any world or planetoid within the Deluros system, and had eight children in the next eleven years. 12: THE MEDIA
...With more than one million worlds under Oligarchic control, it was inevitable that the news media
should take on new power and authority. For the most part this power was used to educate and inform the public, but there were occasional abuses, such as the notorious affair in the Aldebaran system, where the duly-elected Coordinator, Gile Cobart (5406-5469 G.E.), was denied all access to... —Man: Twelve Millennia of Achievement ...It was Jorg Bomin (5389-5466 G.E.) who realized to the fullest the power of the media, and proved that, even among such a race as Man, the pen was mightier than the sword. Later discredited by his own race, and even by his own financial empire, the fact remains that it was Bomin who stood alone against the tyrannical regime of... —Origin and History of the Sentient Races,Vol. 8 Cobart had launched another attack, to nobody's great surprise. It was his fifth in four weeks. It wasn't a military attack, for Gile Cobart wasn't at war with any external force. As the duly elected Coordinator of the Aldebaran system, his borders were secured by the greater presence of the Oligarchy. But within the system itself, he reigned supreme. Or, rather, he tried to.
His problem, like that of all political leaders, was the media. His approach to his problem, which made up in forcefulness what it lacked in originality, was to strike out against his critics, castigating them whenever possible and trying to rally public opinion to his side. And in the Aldebaran system, unlike most other worlds where trusts and monopolies were outlawed, he had only one enemy: ASOC, the Aldebaran System of Communications. ASOC controlled, in whole or in part, every newstape, every video and holo channel, and every one of the old-style newspapers. And ASOC didn't like Cobart any better than he liked it. There had never been much love between the two. During the past election, ASOC had thrown up its hands in dismay at the slate of candidates offered, refused to endorse any of them for Coordinator, and sat on the sidelines as the people elected Cobart with a mere twenty-nine percent of the vote. But while he may have had minimal support, once in office he began gathering a maximum of power about him. He was forced to hold, tacitly at least, to the laws of the Oligarchy. But the laws were vaguely worded in many instances, and any man hungry for power could find ample ways to get around them. Such a man was Gile Cobart.
First came a systematic centralization of government. Aldebaran VII was made the capital world of the system, and the seventeen other planets became mere economic satellites. The plights of the native aliens on Aldebaran II, IV, V, and XIII were shunted aside, though given ample lip service. Soon the petty accouterments of dictatorship—brilliantly uniformed bodyguards, refusal to speak to the press, denial of voting rights to previously enfranchised portions of the population, trials of political enemies—began to take shape and form.
Only ASOC stood against him, and he felt it his duty—and his pleasure—to publicly attack ASOC at every opportunity.